The premise of this novel reminded me sharply of “The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake” by Aimee Bender (2011). But I decided to reserve judgment until I’d read more.
The author gradually draws us into the claustrophobic atmosphere of this mountain area and its superstitious people. These are the kind of people who rely on old-time remedies that require thyme leaves and snake’s tongues. They whisper about a monster called the Moth Man who appears to curse or bless you according to his whim. And they never, never forget old scandals.
Within this stew of new menace and old gossip live a family of women with very peculiar talents. Ms. Pearsall displays these talents not as things on a list but as moments that rise organically out of the text. Some can see the dead; others can hear lies while one can taste emotions and it’s clear these “gifts” come with their share of pain and annoyance for those who possess them. They’re not quite witches but it wouldn’t take much for the townsfolk to dredge the word out of their collective conscious.
The opening chapters tantalize with hints of a tragedy that occurred before the story proper starts. Something happened to Linden James but neither she nor the reader can grasp what it was. It left her with a gap in her memories, a head wound and shattering nightmares that still bring her awake, shaking and sweaty, long after the incident.
In its tale of an adolescent oddly disconnected from her peers but not her family, we’re placed on the scent of a mystery that may involve another disappeared citizen. It’s spooky, nerve-wracking stuff that plays on the old caveat of young girls who should steer clear of the forest, especially late at night.
The author gradually draws us into the claustrophobic atmosphere of this mountain area and its superstitious people. These are the kind of people who rely on old-time remedies that require thyme leaves and snake’s tongues. They whisper about a monster called the Moth Man who appears to curse or bless you according to his whim. And they never, never forget old scandals.
Within this stew of new menace and old gossip live a family of women with very peculiar talents. Ms. Pearsall displays these talents not as things on a list but as moments that rise organically out of the text. Some can see the dead; others can hear lies while one can taste emotions and it’s clear these “gifts” come with their share of pain and annoyance for those who possess them. They’re not quite witches but it wouldn’t take much for the townsfolk to dredge the word out of their collective conscious.
The opening chapters tantalize with hints of a tragedy that occurred before the story proper starts. Something happened to Linden James but neither she nor the reader can grasp what it was. It left her with a gap in her memories, a head wound and shattering nightmares that still bring her awake, shaking and sweaty, long after the incident.
In its tale of an adolescent oddly disconnected from her peers but not her family, we’re placed on the scent of a mystery that may involve another disappeared citizen. It’s spooky, nerve-wracking stuff that plays on the old caveat of young girls who should steer clear of the forest, especially late at night.